Chapter Twenty-Three

As she entered the churchyard, an eerie feeling made Betsy shudder. This surprised and worried her. Usually she was relaxed amongst the graves and liked remembering the folk she’d known who’d passed on, and pondering on the lives of those who’d lived long ago. Often, as Bill did with his ma, she’d sit with her own ma, talking over her worries.

Rosie looked up at her. ‘Eeh, me little lass, someone’s just walked over me grave.’

‘Grave.’ This Rosie accompanied by pointing to the gravestones. But Betsy didn’t feel cheered, as she had done earlier, by this sudden awareness that Rosie was showing.

Everything around her was still. Not even the birds chirped. No breeze rustled the trees or the hedgerows, and Betsy couldn’t enjoy what she always thought of as a place of peace. Hurrying her steps, she hoped she would find Bill around the back of the church, where his ma was buried. He hadn’t known his da; some sickness had taken him when Bill was a small boy. But he’d loved his ma and felt it badly when she passed away, which had happened not long after Bill had his accident. It was said it was the shock of seeing her Bill so badly hurt, it broke her heart.

How life had changed from that day when the mine’s hooter had sounded, telling of a disaster. She’d known then that her Bill was involved, and had begged a lift to get to him. The cage he’d been ascending in had collapsed, killing four men and injuring two. There’d been a lot of inexperienced men working the mines at the time, sent there to do their war service, and one of those hadn’t taken enough care to report a fault.

Bill’s body wasn’t the only thing injured that day, as his mind had been injured, too. He felt it badly that he couldn’t work or be a proper husband to her, though others never knew, because although she had Daisy as a babby at the time, she birthed Florrie a year later and Rosie two years after that, so everything must have seemed normal to them. But everything had changed. Making babbies had been a fumbling affair, and nothing like the passionate relationship they’d known before.

Coming out of this reminiscing, Betsy rounded the corner of the church. She could see her ma-in-law’s grave now, but no sign of Bill. A strange feeling came over her as she gazed at the spot, some ten yards ahead of her. Something was disturbing the branches of the overhanging tree and she could hear a soft, swishing noise. Fear held her still for a moment. Then instinct told her to leave Rosie where they stood. ‘Ma has to go over to Granny’s garden. Rosie watch, eh?’

‘Rosie buttcup?’

‘Not this time, lass. We’ll pick buttercups for your granny’s garden another time.’

As she walked towards the tree, her mind screamed against what had flashed into it. As she neared, the thought became a reality, and a holler came from her that burned her throat, snotted her nose and sweated tears of agony from her body. ‘Naw, naw. Naw . . . naw.’